Pourpré
by Mothface
Summary: Sometimes you don't need to understand everything.


**Pourpre**

It was autumn in Paris. The aroma of baking bread lightly played upon the cool and gentle breeze. Flocks of migratory birds made little scribbles in the above the city on their way to greener pastures with fatter worms. The Sun, bright and as golden as shorn wheat was already mellowing into night. Chimneys wafted long tendrils of wood-smoke and crisp leaves rasped on cobbled stones. The voices of a dozen mothers could be heard calling their children to supper. If you listened closely the melody of the city could be heard; it's voice sweet and melancholy, as if saying goodbye to the once long summer days. Francoeur was content to enjoy it all lying atop the roof of the cabaret. Days like these he kept close to his heart.

Francoeur shivered. The air was getting sharp and frigid. His new clothes were more stylish and comfortable, but they didn't leave much warmth for cold Parisian nights. Lucille had thrown out all of his first garments ages ago. She insisted that some better clothes could be found- ones that didn't have holes in them and ones that didn't smell like wet garbage. In their stead, Lucille had gifted him multiple pairs of trousers with suspenders and white linen shirts. There was also a tobacco colored pea-coat and at least a dozen scarves waiting on a coat-rack in Lucille's dressing room. Perhaps, he should pay the dressing room a visit. He needed a jacket and he hadn't seen Lucille today. Maybe they could practice together and afterwards he could take her up to the roof to see Paris in its entire splendor. Then maybe, just maybe, tonight she would hold his hand just like she did Raoul's. Maybe she'd look into his eyes, wrap her arms around his neck and whisper those words he's wanted to hear for so long. Those words she said to Raoul while she didn't think anyone was listening.

Why was Raoul so special? Why did he get the attention? Francoeur did not know. There were plenty of things he didn't understand yet. Maybe Lucille would explain it to him. Maybe she could explain why Raoul had hair, and he didn't – or many of those other things like ears and eyebrows. Was that why she chose to spend more time with him now? Why did he feel hot watching the two of them dancing together? Why did his face feel numb when Lucille pecked Raoul on the cheek? Again he did not know. He wished he could ask with human words instead of hoping Lucille would answer what was on his mind by chance. More than that, he wanted to say things to her. Things that meant something.

Francoeur got up and brushed off the dust he was lying in. All of these thoughts and questions were starting to give him a migraine. His head just didn't seem large enough these days. He walked past the gigantic bird cage on top of the cabaret- segmented fingers plucking on the metal wires. The bird, frozen as ever, stared up into the darkening sky. Glancing one last time at the city, Francoeur leapt off the roof- his long legs absorbing the impact. The back alley into the theatre was quiet- the perfect discreet way to enter the building, but tonight he could hear faint shouting within the walls. One voice was certainly Raoul's and the other a rich soprano that could only belong to…Lucille?

_Lucille._

Lucille!

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"Lucille, He's a giant bug for crying out loud! Christ, why am I even surprised? You always had a _thing_ for charity cases."

"I guess that explains why I'm with you then."

"Oh hah-hah, very funny, But if I was your charity case I would have at least seen the inside of your apartment by now."

"Is that what this is about? He has no place to stay, Raoul. He cannot sleep on the dressing room couch forever! What would you have me do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don't you see? He's happy where he is. You don't need to do this. We could just forget about everything. Let's get dinner tonight. It'd be just you, me and Paris."

"Feh- You care about nothing but yourself. He's your friend too, or have you forgotten that?"

"No," Raoul ground out."I haven't. But don't you think it's funny that he gets to go home with you, when I haven't even seen your front door?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"He's all you ever talk about these days, you know. It's Francoeur this, and Francoeur that. What about me? Huh?"

"It's always about you! You egotistical pig!"

"Go ahead then, invite the giant flea into your apartment. Don't come crying to me when he eats the neighbor's dog!"

Just then Francoeur flung the dressing room door open, his face a mask of worry. He had expected to find Lucille and Raoul in mortal danger. Instead, there was quiet. Lucille's face was flushed and wet while Raoul's was a deep maroon. Tension was palpable in the air. The two of them were breathing in and out with such fury; it was surprising the air in the room didn't combust. Francoeur did not know what was going on, but instinct told him to be wary. He took a step back and gestured he was cold and pointed to the coat rack right next to Raoul.

"You need a coat?"

Francoeur nodded.

Raoul threw a jacket in his direction. Raoul grinned, but bore his teeth like a feral cat. His black pompadour seemed to stand out on end.

Francoeur was lost. The situation was far beyond his realm of understanding. Not being able to respond effectively in this new world of his was beginning to worry him. Did he do something wrong? Raoul saw the look on the giant flea's face. It was one of confusion and fear.

Perhaps Francoeur wasn't the only monster in the room.

"Look, I'm sorry…" He scratched the back of his head and stared at the floorboards, then glanced over at Lucille. Her arms were folded and her eyes on the opposite wall, facing away from him.

"I'll see you…" He touched Lucille's shoulder. She did not look at him. "when I see you."

Raoul gently pushed past Francoeur and exited the building.

Lucille choked on her anger and grief. Air left her lungs with tiny gasps. She wrapped her arms around herself for some semblance of comfort.

"I am sorry you had to see that." She looked over to see Francoeur pacing over to her. He chirped in response. "I guess you know- you're coming to stay with me now." She sniffed. It should have been a happier occasion. She not expect Raoul to react the way he did, she also did not expect to get to angry. Lucille had let her temper get the best of her…again.

But then she felt arms wrap around her torso and looked up to see Francoeur's face. His golden-red eyes were filled with worry and doubt. His jacket forgotten.

"No, its fine. I think I just injured his pride. Nothing to concern yourself with." But Francoeur shook his head. He was worried about Raoul, to be sure- but Lucille was primary in his attention.

"I 'm alright. Don't worry about me" He shook his head again, and pulled her closer. He wanted desperately to make all her hurt go away and fix everything. He had no clue what was wrong, but he had an idea to make in better.

The giant flea pointed upwards- gesturing to the roof. His eyes begging for permission. Lucille had only a vague idea of what he was asking, but she trusted him and allowed him to bundle her up in his arms. With a free hand, he picked up the forgotten jacket off the floor and draped her in it. It took only a few seconds to leave the cabaret and ascend the roof.

Francoeur gently placed the angel of the cabaret in a comfortable viewing area. The surrounding buildings blocked the worst buffets of wind. His coat was wrapped tightly around her tiny shoulders.

"Oh Francoeur," she was smiling. "I had never seen a purple sky before. It's beautiful." And it was. Shades of violet cradled the stars and each star like a tiny ember sparking from a greater fire. The moon was gone- it had forsaken the Seine this night, but it was no matter. The glow of Paris kept the great river company instead. A thousand bright eyes winked from windows and street corners. The roads wove an intricate web like the luminescent bloodstream of a great mythical beast. The spire of the Eiffel tower stabbed the firmament with no apology. Light shrouded the great behemoth, daring the night to demand its retribution.

Yes, it was beautiful, but Francoeur did not notice. His eyes were only for Lucille. Even in this kind of darkness he could see her lashes dark against pale skin. Wide green eyes that could swallow the world, shining with unspent tears. Bronze hair, normally perfectly coiffed, hung loose in the wind. The smile that was so fragile on her pink lips tore his heart in two. She was everything.

"Thank you, Francoeur."

Her fingers entwined with his and lingered there.

Francoeur smiled.

Maybe he didn't have all the answers.

Maybe he didn't need them.

Maybe all he needed was Lucille's hand in his, under the purple Parisian sky.

A/N: A very special thanks to two people for getting my ass in gear. (Usernames to come.) This whole thing is unabashedly OOC. Look at me, writing a fiction for a movie I haven't even seen yet. And they'll be plenty more. Deal with it.


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